Wedding Day Exposure: My Fiancé's Affair Unveiled

I sat on my bed, phone clutched in my trembling hand, staring at Victoria Spencer's name on the screen. Three days had passed since the wasp attack, and my face still bore the angry red welts as reminders. The doctors had assured me I was lucky—a few more stings could have killed me.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered to myself, pressing the call button.

The phone rang twice before Victoria's elegant voice answered. "Ella, darling, how are you feeling?"

"Victoria," I began, my voice steadier than I expected. "I need to talk to you about Reed. About us. I think we need to call off the engagement."

There was a pause, then a rustling sound. "Ella, please don't make any hasty decisions. You've been through a traumatic experience—"

"It's not just the wasps," I interrupted. "It's everything. Aniyah's involvement, Reed leaving me when I could have died—"

The phone suddenly went silent, then Reed's voice came through. "Mom, I'll handle this."

My stomach dropped. "Reed? You're there?"

"Ella," he said, his tone shifting to that smooth, persuasive one I'd heard countless times before. "Please don't do this. I swear on my grandfather's grave, I will completely cut ties with Aniyah."

I could almost see him adjusting his watch as he spoke—the nervous tell he never realized he had.

"Reed, she tried to kill me," I said, tears threatening to spill over.

"No one tried to kill you," he countered, his voice hardening slightly. "It was a prank that went too far. And yes, Aniyah was there, but she got hurt too, remember?"

I heard muffled voices in the background, then Victoria came back on the line. "Ella, dear, why don't we all meet tomorrow? Marcus and I want to help resolve this situation."

Before I could respond, Reed's voice was back, urgent and pleading. "Ella, please. I love you. Only you. Aniyah means nothing to me."

I closed my eyes, twisting my father's locket between my fingers. "Fine," I conceded. "We'll meet."

---

Two weeks before our wedding, I was arranging flowers for the rehearsal dinner when my phone buzzed with a text from Teagan.

"You okay?" she asked. "You've been quiet."

I typed back: "Just stressed about the wedding."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The wedding was approaching fast, but what really had me on edge was Reed's behavior.

Last night, I'd woken to find him missing from our bed. I found him in the living room, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in hushed tones. When I asked who it was, he claimed it was a client emergency.

Then there was the laptop incident. I'd walked into his home office to surprise him with lunch, only to find him quickly slamming the screen shut when I entered.

"What are you hiding?" I'd asked.

"Nothing," he'd snapped. "Just wedding plans. You know how I am about surprises."

But the look in his eyes—that flicker of panic—told me otherwise.

When I confronted him about it later, he sighed dramatically. "Ella, you're being paranoid. The stress of the wedding is making you act crazy."

"Crazy?" I repeated.

"Yes, crazy," he insisted, taking my hands in his. "You're imagining things that aren't there. It's not healthy."

I pulled away, suddenly unsure of what I'd seen. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was overreacting.

---

The first package arrived on a Tuesday morning.

I was sorting through wedding invitations when the delivery man handed me a small, plain box with no return address.

Inside was a single rose—wilted and dead—from a bouquet Reed had given me on our first anniversary.

My hands shook as I lifted it, petals crumbling between my fingers.

The second package came three days later.

This time, it contained Polaroid photos—intimate shots of Reed and Aniyah from their relationship years ago. Her head on his chest. His lips on her neck. Both of them smiling at the camera.

A note accompanied them in elegant handwriting: "He'll never love you the way he loves me."

I threw them across the room, watching as they scattered like fallen leaves.

The third package arrived the following week.

It was a USB drive in a small velvet box—the kind Reed's jewelry company used for their higher-end pieces.

With trembling fingers, I plugged it into my laptop.

The screen flickered to life, revealing video after video of Reed and Aniyah together. Some were old, but others...

I froze as I recognized the hotel room from our anniversary trip last month.

The timestamp in the corner showed it was filmed just two weeks ago.

As the video played, a note slipped from the box onto my keyboard:

"Enjoy the scraps while you can."

I sat motionless, staring at the screen as my world collapsed around me.